


Skool

by thirdeyeopen



Series: An Alien's Guide To Friendship and Stuff [2]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Friendship, ZADF, nothing big really happens here its just exploring feelings and filling in some stuff, pls read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 04:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21068789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirdeyeopen/pseuds/thirdeyeopen
Summary: The skool year's come back around.Dib's got a good feeling about this one.





	Skool

Skool came back around again, just like it always did. Stepping into ninth grade, Dib took quick notice of how virtually nothing had changed. The kids around him were still gross and loud, albeit a little taller. The skool halls were still covered in dirt and grime, overshadowing any effort at color the half-hearted "welcome back" banners put in. And Ms. Bitters was still alive… somehow. 

Summer had been crazy; that was the simplest way to describe it. Gaz had taken up coding lessons, and Dib couldn’t believe some of the stuff she had learned to do in just three months. Their father was still busy working on some kind of new device… but he  _ had  _ come to see them an hour after they got home from their graduation, so… that was something. Even if he was only there for five minutes. 

But now everything was back to its mundanity. With skool would come work and test, algebra and science, reading too. Summer was over. Free time was over. 

A lot of things had become "over" in the past year. 

Dib headed for Ms. Bitters's room almost robotically; two years of going to the exact same place had burned its location into his mind. He was the first to arrive, and so he took the time to stand in front of the rows of desks and search for the right seat. He had been sitting in the front since sixth grade and, consequently, Zim had, too. Maybe it was time to switch it up. 

...Or, maybe not. He couldn't see himself sitting anywhere else. It was  _ Zim's _ seat that had changed; the Irken had slowly moved himself across the front row until he'd been beside Dib last year. But he never really got anything out of it. Who knew if he would do it again? 

Regardless, Dib settled into his seat -- the farthest to the right, in the front row. He stared down at the fake wooden desk, surprised (and happy) to see a drawing of his still there; a little faded, but otherwise visible. It wasn't anything in particular (just a pair of eyes) but Dib remembered Zim leaning over in his seat to take a look, under the assumption that he was being drawn. He had drawn Mothman towards the bottom left corner, but he was gone now. Dib would redraw him later. 

Kids began to file in after the bell. They were faces he knew, but none of them acknowledged him. They all found their seats; most chose their old ones, but others opted for a change. 

Things were quiet still; nobody was friends in this class. 

A small smile stretched Dib's lips as he rethought that statement. 

Nobody but him and Zim. 

Friendship was weird, but he'd always had that hunch. And becoming friends with your enemy wasn't just a one-and-done thing, as convenient as that would have been. Letting go of fighting was difficult; the last skool year, they had to work on suffocating the instinct to glare at each other in the hall. But things were getting easier. Friendly (ech, that sounded so  _ weird _ in his head) banter had become an adequate, less-harmful replacement. Zim had no longer been hard at work making death machines, and Dib had slowly let his guard down. There were no tricks. This wasn't a ploy to distract him. It had gone on too long.

Zim was genuine. Niceness was awkward on him, like a flannel jacket on galaxy leggings (somebody actually wore that last year), but Dib was getting used to it. 

He'd once thought that the skoolchildren would be weirded out or confused by the sudden change, but they literally could care less. If anything, they all seemed relieved to not have to pay attention to the pair's rivalry anymore. 

Nothing much had happened over the Summer, save for home drama. But he didn't like to think about that. He had actually gone over to Zim's base in a non-confrontational way for the first time that Summer, and he'd gotten to chill on the couch and watch a movie, too. It was a pretty fun thing on a bad day. Zim wouldn't ever know how much it meant, though. He didn't need to be wrapped up in Dib's family drama; nobody did. And nobody ever would.

Dib's eyebrows furrowed, a frustrated sigh escaping as he slapped a palm onto his desk. No matter what, he always came back to those thoughts. He probably needed medication, or at the very least some therapy, but both things were out of the question. And they would be for a long time, if not forever. 

His head hurt. 

But it wasn't long before, thankfully, Dib's best distraction had arrived. Dressed in the same clothes and only a little bit taller, Zim was mostly unchanged. And that was nice.

_ Friends hug,  _ Dib realized,  _ we should be hugging _ . 

But they'd never hugged before, and Zim didn't seem like he'd mind if they didn't now. 

So Dib kept his arms at his sides, a little thankful. 

Zim slid into the seat next to Dib, the only seat available in the front row. They'd seen each other on the last day of Summer break, so there was no need for any big, dramatic reunions. Dib wasn't sure he'd like that anyway, regardless if it was needed or not. 

They said their friendly hellos, and Zim was almost beaming as he slammed a sketchbook down on the desk. He had taken up drawing during the Summer thanks to "Dib's skill" (that made him happy), and he was actually pretty good at it. Still a beginner, but surprisingly skilled. Dib was still a beginner himself, having only started drawing the same year he met Zim. So they agreed to practice together. 

Zim passed his now-open sketchbook over to Dib, who stared down at the page presented to him. On it was a drawing of Long Horse, a black-maned horse skull with a bony neck that could bend and stretch on infinitely. Zim had become obsessed with the kindly monster ever since Dib had showed it to him. He could tell that the Irken had slaved over the details for a good while… and that he used oil pastels.

"That's amazing." Dib said, staring into Long Horse's empty eye sockets. For a "kind" monster, it sure was spooky. "The texture of the bones looks really nice." 

"Turn the page." Zim said eagerly, balling his fists like an excited little kid. His glee-filled voice piqued Dib's interest, and he obliged. 

The next drawing made him laugh. 

It was another Long Horse drawing, but this one had less-stable lineart. Long Horse's elongated neck stretched through the page, with just a glimpse of its face visible at the end. Somewhere in the middle of the drawing sat Zim on Long Horse's neck, wearing sunglasses and smiling cooly. 

No doubt that was something Zim would do if they ever found Long Horse. 

Smiling at the crude drawing, Dib let himself think. He had become more interested in cryptids than ghosts over the past year, but that didn't mean he wouldn't like to take Zim ghost-hunting once or twice. Maybe it would be more fun like that. 

He'd bring it up someday. 

Handing the sketchbook back to its still-gleeful owner, Dib leaned back in his seat. 

Changes were still happening, and they'd continue to happen until Dib learned to get used to them.

For now, skool was starting up again. He was friends with his enemy now. Things weren't going to be the same anymore. 

Maybe they'd be better. 

The tardy bell rang, and the last student entered the class, seemingly running for their lives with Ms. Bitters not far behind. They skittered into their seat, and Ms. Bitters stood at the front, gazing at every child before giving an annoyed groan. 

So many things were still the same. That felt nice. He didn't have to keep on his toes or try to save the world anymore. That was nice, too. 

He was hardly ever like this, so sentimental and optimistic. 

But being friends with his enemy, having only that one big, drastic change, felt fine. 

They were going to be fine.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> More to come. Things will start happening soon, I swear. Comments are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed!


End file.
